Always Almost There
by xXdreameaterXx
Summary: Why do we have to talk when we can be impossible together? - Set during/after Forest Of The Night. Twelve/Clara. Whouffaldi. Rated M for sexual content.


**Always Almost There**

Clara looked everywhere, but the girl was nowhere to be found. She could hear the Doctor following her a few steps behind, mumbling something. She wasn't listening, not really.

". . . you find yourself with an enchanting. . . masculine. . . figure," Clara thought she heard him say.

Twigs snapped beneath their feet in the jungle of London.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?"

He shook his head. She had probably heard him wrong. The mind hears what it wants to hear. And then there was another trace of the missing girl.

**OOO**

She hadn't even said goodbye. Somewhere inside her heart, there was the truth, buried deep, the knowledge that she would see him again very soon. Clara trusted the Doctor, even now she trusted him.  
>And indeed he came back, running around, waving everyone back into the TARDIS. There was this spark in his eyes that said: I'm going to save the day! He didn't even have to. The world was saving itself this time, with a brand new spectacle to watch. They would watch it, and they would love it. Clara smiled to herself.<p>

**OOO**

"Why aren't you with Danny? This is a special day for the human race," the Doctor said as she entered the TARDIS.

Clara shrugged. She had asked Danny. He had declined. It was as simple as that. And a part of her had even hoped for it. Danny was her anchor, keeping her down to earth. He had no place in the TARDIS. No one had any place in the TARDIS. Except the Doctor. And except her.

**OOO**

After the solar storm had passed, the real beauty of it had only just begun. The trees were dissolving into tiny, glowing lights. Clara took a deep breath. It was magnificent. The Doctor was standing next to her on the balcony, admiring the sight of vanishing jungles, dissolving trees, spreading through the air.

"I'm glad," Clara finally said after staring at the city in silence with him for a while.

"That the world didn't end? Yeah, that's something to be glad about," he replied with a smile, looking at her.

Clara could see in his eyes that he was dying to talk, tell stories, explain things to her, but instead he just asked: "So, when's P.E. coming over? I suppose I should be gone when he does."

"He's not coming over tonight."

"Really?" he sounded baffled, "I'm surprised you didn't spend this extraordinary evening with him."

"He's not really into alien things. Can't blame him. He's. . ."

"Boring?" the Doctor asked.

"No," Clara pinched his arm slightly.

"Dull? Tedious?"

"Doctor!"

"A pudding brain?"

Clara laughed. It had been obvious from the beginning that the Doctor didn't like him very much. "He's normal. He's part of my normal life and I need that. Danny keeps me. . . grounded."

The Doctor turned around and examined her with his inquiring, grey eyes. "Why would you want that? Why would you put yourself in a cage when you could just fly away?"

"Because," Clara found it hard to turn away from his gaze, "that's what human beings do. They lead normal lives."

"Really? Well, maybe most of them. But once in a while there is one person who thinks one step ahead of everyone, reaching for the impossible, craving the unknown, attempting the extraordinary. If that wasn't so, the human race would still live in caves."

Clara shook his head. Her anchor was trying hard to pull free.

"I am not one of these people," she tried to explain.

"Yes, you are, but you don't see it. Clara, how many worlds have you saved?"

"That was you. It was all you."

"No, it wasn't. _I_ am only here because of _you_, don't you try to deny it, my impossible girl."

Clara was too modest to admit that he was right and he hadn't called her his impossible girl in such a long time that she had already forgotten who she was. She was the girl who saves the Doctor. She was everywhere at any time in his 2000 year long life. Always almost there. The impossible girl and her Doctor, meeting over and over again, though never meant to stay together. Except here. Except now.

"Doctor?" she began carefully, "If I touch you now, will you promise me not to back away?"

"Oh, you want a hug? I don't know, Clara, I'm not really. . ."

Clara had no intention to hug him. Before he could finish his sentence, she had reached out for his face with both her hands and brought it to hers for a kiss. His lips felt cool, though soft on her own, but she dared to go no further.

After she let go, the Doctor stared a her in confusion, obviously flustered.

"I'm not an expert, but I'd say this was no hug," he finally said after a long while.

"I think you're probably right," Clara gave him a smile.

"And I think P.E. would probably have minded that."

Clara sighed. It had been obvious for a while that she couldn't expect to keep them both, no matter how hard she tried to hold on to both her normal life and the extraordinary one. And she had forgotten who she was, forgotten she was _his_ impossible girl, or was it that he simply had never cared to remind her?

Or hadn't he? The Doctor had always made it clear to her how much he valued her company, her opinion. He had always come back for her. He had been thrilled when he thought she was dating Adrian, who resembled his former self quite a bit, and utterly furious when he had learnt the truth. He had plastered the walls of his TARDIS with books, knowing that she loved to read. He had taken her to the Orient Express. And what was it that he had said to her when he was trapped inside his TARDIS? Clara had never heard his confession in its entirety due to the bad connection, yet she felt that the most important part had gone missing, but she had been too busy to care.

"You are right," Clara uttered, still unable to tear away her gaze, "I am your impossible girl. I am _yours_."

The Doctor remained silent, as if still trying to figure out what she had said very clearly.

"You _do_ love me, right?" She couldn't be that much mistaken, "It's what you were trying to tell me all along?"

"Clara, I. . ."

"If you're not going to say anything nice, please, don't say anything at all," she covered his mouth with her finger as if to shush him.

"Clara, I think you're still in shock. The world almost ended today," the Doctor said quietly.

She withdrew her hand, a smile appeared on her lips. "No, you're not going to chicken out now. I want you to tell me. Doctor, tell me what you said when you were trapped in your TARDIS."

"You made a mighty fine Doctor," he answered bluntly and with a slight frown.

"No, before that. What did you say before that?" she pressed but there was no answer. Not a single word was uttered by the two of them for a very long moment. They only kept staring at each other. Nothing in the universe could have distracted them from it.

Clara finally reached out to him again and pressed her hand against his chest. She could feel his hearts beating beneath her palm, a fast and steady rhythm.

"I love you," the Doctor whispered his confession that would have shattered Clara's world the day before. But now, now she had already known. Already figured it out. _Finally_ figured it out.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked after a moment.  
>"No," Clara replied earnestly. "Why do we have to talk when we can be impossible together?"<p>

She lowered her gaze and took him by the hand, leading him through the living room, past his TARDIS. Clara caught him looking at it, as if pondering flight. The bedroom door creaked while opening, as did the floor under their steps. Everything around them was so quiet, she could hear his breath, hear his heartbeat even and she prayed he could not hear hers jumping wild inside her chest.

They stood facing each other and Clara was the first to reach out and slowly pull his coat from his shoulders. The Doctor no longer looked confused, or even flustered. It seemed as if he carefully took one step after the other, trying to find the boundary, one that Clara hadn't set. There wouldn't be anything holding them back tonight. Clara had made up her mind.

The Doctor cupped her face, the very one he had always called too wide, so wide in fact that she needed three mirrors, in his hands and pulled her in for a kiss. While their lips touched, Clara wondered if all the things he had said about her body before had just been his own defence mechanisms, trying to talk himself out of wanting her. It hadn't worked. She closed her arms around him, her hand running through his hair while she was tasting him, letting his tongue explore her mouth.

The kiss lasted for hours, at least that was what Clara thought. He turned around, never breaking the contact and let himself sink on her bed, pulling Clara down on his lap. His hands wandered under her shirt, his touch giving her chills. She broke the kiss so he could remove her top, leaving her only in her bra and pants. Clara quickly followed his example and after the last pieces of clothing were removed from their bodies, she suddenly felt vulnerable. With childlike curiosity they had started to undress each other and now she was uncertain how to lead it from there.

"Are you sure?" the Doctor asked at once, apparently sensing her insecurity.

Clara nodded, reassuring him with a smile.

"Good, because your eyes were doing that thing."

"Oh, shut up," she ordered him, pressing another kiss to his lips.

The Doctor laid her down on the bed, climbing on top of her. When he finally thrust into her with gentle eagerness, a slight moan escaped her throat. Even 2000 years of practice couldn't justify the way he knew all her sensitive spots, how he found the right place on her neck to kiss or the right way to caress her breasts while he moved steady between her legs. He breathed her name into her ear while she begged him not to stop. Clara's nails started to dig into his back, probably leaving marks all over him as she pulled herself up to meet his rhythm. She arched her back at the final thrust that sent her over the edge, her whole body shuddering with sensation of salvation as he came inside her, quietly moaning her name one last time before letting himself fall back into the pillows next to her.

They lay silently under the covers. Clara wasn't sure if hours had passed or mere minutes before she finally allowed herself to speak again, afraid of ruining a beautiful moment.

"That was . . ." she was looking for a word to describe it, but none came to her mind.

"That was you and me, doing impossible things," the Doctor completed her sentence.

Clara smiled and skidded closer to him. He was right. That was her and her Doctor, a hundred times impossible and now finally true.


End file.
